Death is Only One Ending
by MaltWarrior
Summary: The death of someone you love could bring even the strongest of men to tears, even Crowley. Crowley/Oc ONE-SHOT


The doctor looked up from the girl, her breaths coming in small gasps. His eyes landed on the man in front of him, a man with short brown hair and appeared to be in his early 30s. He claimed to be a friend of his dying patient, thought he seemed to be anything but, who was he argue? Instead he had led the man to her through the many bed-ridden sick. He checked her chart and placing his hand on her forehead, her skin was much hotter than his cool clammy hand. "mr..."

"Crowley."

"mr. Crowley," he corrected as he glanced at the girl and then motioned for the younger man to follow him away from the sick woman. He stopped near the doorway, his eyebrows knit together as his forehead creased and wrinkled from his many years of work and worry. His head hung low as he contemplated on how to say his next few words. "I'm afraid ms. Paxton won't be with us for much longer." his murky brown eyes looked up to see the man's reaction to the news.

Crowley's brow furrowed and creased, his hand came up to stroke the corners of his mouth as he nodded and turned his head to look at the woman from the corner of his eyes, literally lying on her death bed as she had to use what little energy she had left to get life supporting air into her failing lungs. Her body shook with every ragged cough that forced its way from her chest and up her throat with much effort. Each cough seemed to leave her weaker and weaker. Crowley had no doubt that today just might be her last living day on earth. If you could call this living.

"if you wish," Dr. Garver spoke, gaining the young man's attention again, "you can stay with her until she..." he trailed off, allowing Crowley to fill in the rest of his sentence for him. It was common now, in the small hospital, for death to be just around the corner. Ever since the Spanish influenza had arrived, the hospital beds were never empty of the sick and the rooms full of the smell of death. But that didn't make it any easier for Dr. Garver to say that he couldn't do a thing for any of the patients that were practically holding hands with their reaper, beside give them what rationed medicine they had to help ease the pain.

Crowley nodded again, "yes, I'll stay with her." he watched as the doctor pulled a mask from his pocket, one of the same masks he had been offered, and declined, when he arrived at the small Brookline hospital.

"you should wear this. I can't guarantee that you won't end up in a bed next to her if you don't."

He shook his head, "won't be nessisary." he insisted and then turn to walk away before the elderly doctor could protest. Despite his young looks, Crowley had no need for the thin mask, the illnesses of the human flesh hadn't effected him for many decades and nor would they now. Instead, he grabbed hold of a wooden chair that had been placed against the wall near another patient's bed and placed it at the side of the woman's bed. Sitting down, he reached over and took hold of her hand, it felt warm, even to him. his brow furrowed once more as he looked over the sickly woman with pale skin the burned, but some how still retained that beauty that had captivated him nine years ago.

Moreen Paxton was a simple woman. Born in 1887 to two Irish farmers. She lived a life of common wealth that was made from the hard work of hands working earth and sweat constantly on the brow. Moreen enjoyed this work, earning the life that sprouted from the earth that kept her family, herself, and even the people in town that they sold their produce to alive. She felt she lived to feel the dirt under her nails, the caked mud on her legs and arms when it had rained earlier that day, to feel the hot sun pound down on her back when she tilled the land or impregnated it with seed.

When she was 8, she remember the night her mother, stomach swelled with the presence of her second child, had fallen to her knees, clutching her abdomen and moaning in what sounded to be the worst pain morren had ever seen her mother in. Her father, who had been in the next room filling his pipe with tobacco for his evening smoke, had rushed into the room with his scraggly beard flying into his face and ordered his daughter to rush to town and get the doctor. It was only a fifteen minute run to the small town, a longer journey for the short legged child, where she cut through the town on little known paths until her small hand was rapping on the town's only doctor's door. Moments later light in the dark house flickered behind the small window above the door and a middle aged man dressed still in his clothes from the day and candle holder held by his index finder and thumb opened the door, peering down from behind half moon glasses to look as the dirty child on his door step.

"what is it, girl." he question, a dour expression on his face. He recognized the Paxton child, her father had been here two weeks ago with a slice to the forearm that wouldn't stop bleeding until he had stitched it up. He had brought his daughter with him on previous occasions when had been injured before but was left home now to tend to her mother while he was away.

"you must come quick! It's me ma, she is with child and is doubled over in pain. Me Da sent me as quick as it happened. I think me sibbling is coming, and won't wait for us if we don't hurry!"

He took in a deep breath through his nose before nodding and motioning to a stable just beyond his house. "I will have my horse readied and will be off to aid in the birth by the next hour. Run home, child. I will be along shortly."

Instead of protesting, wishing the man would hurry faster least her sibling be born before help could arrive, instead she bit her tongue and was off on foot once more. The journey seemed shorter this time as she was light on her feet until she bounded through the door and stopped to allow air into her burning lungs.

"child, where is the doctor?" her father's gruff voice greeted her and she looked up to look at him. He had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a cloth stained red was in his hand.

The sight of it made her fear something had gone wrong while she was away, but pushed this aside to answer her pa. "on his way." she gasped out and straightened up. "where is Ma?"

Her father looked towards the other room where they could hear the woman's loud scream when another contraction hit her, "in bed, she's in labor, child. And if that doctor doesn't hurry, it be you and I that'll be delivering 'em."

"what can I do, Da?" she questioned. She was eight, nine in the winter, what more could she do that wasn't already done.

"fetch us more water to be heated on the hearth." he ordered as he left the room to join his wife in the next.

Moreen got the tub from the room, the water in it was cooling and murky with red blood. She cleaned the tub, filled a pale with water from the well and placed the liquid into a pot to be heated on flames in the hearth. She was about to join her parent in the room when the sudden sound of hooves pounding the ground caught her ears. She rushed outside just in time to see the doctor from town dismount his horse and tie the reigns to a post. He grabbed a bag he had brought with him that was tied to the saddle and rushed past her, not bothering to acknowledge the small child.

She followed him into the house, where her father was already out of the bedroom to greet the man with a firm handshake. "how is she doing." his english accent was odd to hear in contrast when her father spoke after him, gesturing towards the room he had came from.

"in her bed. I've done what I can. I think the babe will be here sooner than I thought before."

The doctor nodded and made his way into the room just as her mother gave another scream of pain and her father turned to her, "bring the water. Quick, girl!"

Moreen poured the now hot water into the tub and lifted it with great difficulty, walking as quickly as should could with the water sloshing about. Her father met her at the door, taking the tub from her with much stronger arms, "stay out here, youll only be in the way of you come in." he informed before turning from her.

She waited in the kitchen, sitting at the table until the sitting got to her and She then moved to the hearth and stoked the fire, every noise from the room had her turning and wonder what could be going on inside those walls. And when she was sure the waiting was going to kill her, a crying filled the house. And it was the most wonderful cry moreen had ever heard. Soon after, the two men emerged from the room, smiles wide on their lips.

The doctor was wiping blood from his hands onto a cloth before he held out his newly cleaned and to her father, "congratulations, again."

Her father shook his hand, "thank you...thank you." he then turn to look at her, "come my girl. Come look upon your new brother."

A brother! She had brother! She was quick to go into the room, not bothering to thank or say farewell to the doctor as she clambered to her mother's bedside. A small pink babe held in her arms, wrapped up in clean blankets to protect him from the night's cool air.

Her mother turn to smile at her, she looked very tired and her face was peppered with sweat. "look dear child. He is happy to see you." she said as she held the squirming child.

"what's his name, Ma?"

She looked down at the blue eyed child that just barely peeked out from under his heavy lids, "he is named after me Da. He will be call Cecil."

Moreen smiled widely and held out her index finger, rubbing the soft skin of his hand until he grabbed ahold of the digit, "hello, Cecil."

That was one of her happiest memories of her childhood, the birth of her baby brother. From then on she alway took the time to take care of the babe, changing him when he made a mess, rocked him when he cried and their Ma was busy, or carrying him on her hip when the meals were being prepared. When he was four, she brought him to the fields where he learned to plant the seeds that brought forth the produce they lived from. He had just come to his 14th year of life when Moreen left Ireland for the United States. The previous year, her fiancé Leary Keegan had left her to be with another woman, cheating on her for the length of the year prior until she confronted him. She suspected his action before, but it hadn't made it hurt any less when he told her it was true and then said such words that had made Moreen feel like nothing but a common whore.

She was quick to earn what money she could when he arrived. She managed to find board at low cost, thought it was probably due to the part of town she was in. It wasn't exactly the life she had dreamt of when she was younger, wondering what could be waiting for her beyound cultivation, but what Leary had done didnt leave her with the want to stay and find a life there either. If anything, it had pushed her more, and now she was finding that life here wasnt bringing her much hope either. And then, it must have been a miracle. She had met him.

The light was bright as her eyes peaked open, they ached in there sockets. Her body felt like it was being held above the hearth in her old home and yet her skin felt cool and wet. She felt something squeeze her right hand and her head lulled over, her eyes moved slowly, as if the were being propulsioned by rusty cogwheels, until she was looking at the man next to her. His brown eyes were warm as he looked at her, but the forced smile on his lips ruined any image that was trying to be made for her sake.

"what are you doing here?" her voice was rough and weak.

His smile became alittle less forced to hear her, "to see you, of course."

She dragged in breath between her lips as she look upon him. He hadn't changed at all in the nine years she had known him. Of course, being a demon in someone else's body made it quite easy to do this. Crowley was the reason she was able to come to this new world in the first place, though he had been in a different body at the time. And it was only a year later that he would show up in her life again, dressed in an expensive suit, his now brown hair was short and his features were sharp. He was over all a very attractive and charming man. He was, in her opinion, the epitome of suave. And what made him more perfect was that he didn't try to hide who or what he was from was blatant in telling her that he was the same demon that had made her life here possible with a single kiss.

And she was quite happy, even on her death bed, she could say it wasn't the last. "I would have thought you would have been-" she was cut off by an attack of coughs that felt like it was making her lungs rattle in her ribcage. "too busy-" she breathed out after the onslaught.

He placed his hand against her middle, gently pushing her back down to the bed from her arched position, the warmth radiating through the blanket worried him but he didn't mention or show signs that he had even noticed her dreary looks. Her once vibrant red hair was now dull and only shined in the light because of the sweat that dampened it. Her naturally stormy eyes were now calm clouds of grey, but were still a sight to see, even to Crowley. Her once sun kissed skin was now pale and sickly. It was very obvious, even to herself, that she was dying. "work can wait." he told her, "there's always someone who'll be willing to deal their soul away tomorrow."

She removed her hand from his, elicting a confused look from him until she reached up and touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek and smiled the best she could, "thank you."

He leaned forward, Cupping her hand with his and pressing it again his cheek more, "for what, dear?"

"for making what was the rest of my life the best it was ever going to be."

His eyes darkened as they swam with emotions he hadn't felt since he had gone by a different name and had a family of his own. He closed them and hung his head, "dont say that." he said, his voice low.

She gave him a questioning look, "why?"

"because...I know how much i've put you through. All the moving when i have to change bodies, hiding from other demons, constantly changing your job and moving to a new house...and I know personally what I'm going to be putting you through next." when her laughter came to his ears he looked up and glared at her, "is this a bloody joke to you? When you die you're-"

"I'm laughing, Crowley," she interrupted him and held his hand tightly, "is because all those things that you think made it miserable for me were some of most enjoyable things I have ever done. Hiding from demons? What other girl do you know can say they've had to do that? Me Ma would be having a heart attack if she knew. Changing houses? Its like a new exploration just waitin for you. A new life to play the role of under a new roof. And You getting a new body? It was like getting to meet you all over again, and I'm sorry, have you met you?" she chuckled and he smiled at the chiming sound it was as she spoke of him and the time they had. "so don't be gettin' all mad at me because I enjoyed the last nine years of me life."

He reached out and stroked her hair, "I enjoyed it too...for a human, you aren't half bad." he joked and made her laugh.

The joyous feel fled the room when she suddenly coughed violently, she was arched over, her hand over her mouth as she hacked. He squeezed her hand with his until it was over and she was laying back against the bed, sweat was shining on her skin and her sunken eyes showed how she felt.

Seeing her like this, Crowley was sure, was worse than any hellhound attack he had suffered. And he wished it would end. But not the way he knew it would. After she passed, her soul would be brought to hell were she'd be tortured until she was a monster like him. And he was sure he'd love her then. If she would still feel the same for him, or anything at all, was a meager chance at best. What he wouldnt have done for her in her final year if he had know she would become ill like this. What he would have pushed from his life to replace with her presence, to hear her laughter a thousand times over, to hear her thick irish accent when she got mad at him. To feel her lips with his when their bodies were moving together in the throesof passion, her touch when he would arrive home after being gone for work, or when he had brought her something to try and make up for leaving In the middle of the night because of a sale and not once did she suspect him of being unfaithful to her.

He learned the first night he came to her just what that boy had done to her, and despite being a crossroad demon first, he thought of himself as a gentleman second. And yes, he would admit to being with a whore plenty of times in his life before meeting the young Paxton girl, no, Woman, that's what she was. but never would he have called them so to there face, and knowing Moreen as he did now, she was anything but a whore. She was loyal, proud, hardworking, and one hell of a woman. And she was his.

It didn't take him long into his relationship with her before he had snuck off one evening and payed a visit to this Keegan boy that had wronged his girl so. He found him, living in a old worn house and in bed with a fine girl that was surely not his wife. To say the least, the man was angry to see this stranger in his home and interrupting this intimate time he was having with the blonde. Crowley found it amusing that he tried to fight him, up until he landed a punch to his face and he retaliated by delivering a punch of his own to his chest, breaking the bones under his fist and causing him to have an arrhythmia, which he died from.

He then returned home a little later, not caring about the blonde woman he had killed after Keegan, only what he would tell Moreen about his face and how she would react. So, for her sake, and admittedly his own, he lied. He told her had had gotten into a fight with one of his sales. To say she bought it would also had been a lie, but she was more worried of his bruised cheek then any excuse coming from his lips. And he adored this attention from her, though he would never voice it.

"I love the look you get when your lost in thought."

Her voice made him look up, he hadn't even realized he had been caught up in his memories. "I'm sorry." he apologized anyway, earning a smile from her.

She ran a finger down between his eyes, "you get a crease, right here, when you do that. And the way you alway knit your eyebrows and have this...out of this world look on your face, I love it."

He grinned, "what else do you love about me?"

"fishing for compliments? How unlike you." she chuckled but obliged anyway, "I love...your charming mannerisms. I love how you know when to put work first, or when something else is more important. I love...how you always taste of that liquor you drink and yet are perfectly sober constantly. I love your Scottish accent, and how you use it to charm me even more." he chuckled with her, his heart, and ego, swelling with her words. "but, more then anything...I love how you-" she coughed violently, her hand wrenched from his to hold her chest and her other covered her mouth.

When it was over, he laid her back down on the bed, taking notice right away of the crimson covering her palm and lips. "lay down love. You look tired, do you want to rest?"

She nodded, "for a wee bit, perhaps..."

He nodded and pulled up the thin blanket they had provided for her. It wouldn't be long now, he knew. And it only made his chest hurt worse. Was that his heart beating with pain and sorrow, knowing that today was his finally time with her? Knowing that those might have been the last words she would speak to him. Yes, yes it did hurt. And though he wished he had been like any other demon to be heartless and emotionless, he knew that deep down, this pain was worth every minute, every second he got with this woman.

It was two hours from midnight when her heart stopped pumping, her ravaged lungs took in one final breath of air and her hand, which he continued to hold even after she fell into a restless sleep, squeezed his one last time before life left her and she died. He felt the hot tears he was sure he would never feel again after been turned into a demon, fall down his cheeks. He wouldn't see Moreen Paxton again. Or at least, not in this body.

* * *

**Woo. First oneshot in forever and it's about Crowley. Didnt really capture him how I wanted, but I still love this. It's more supposed to be how he would be before what he is now but after he's a demon of course. I was also thinking of making this more than a one shot? What do you all think? Do you even like it? Let me know what you think :) thank you for taking the time to read.**


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